Among the many things I wish I’d said first is, “The road goes on forever…”

Alas, Texan singer/songwriter Robert Earl Keen got there ahead of me:

“They jumped into his pickup, Sonny jammed her down in gear.

“Sonny looked at Sherry and said, ‘Let’s get on outta here.’

“The stars were high above them and the moon was in the east.

“The sun was settin’ on them when they reached Miami Beach…”

If that’s not enough to make you want to jam her down in gear (with or without Sherry) and head for the highway, maybe Austin’s Airstream will clinch the deal.

The Austin Visitors Bureau has been touring Canada with a found-in-a-field-and-restored 1970s Airstream trailer towed by a Ford F-450 truck.

I caught up with it in Toronto, and it’s a real eye-catcher, with an on-board recording studio and an area for cozy — OK, cramped — private concerts. (Austin bills itself as the “live music capital of the world”.)

The only jarring thing is it is grey-black — Airstreams are traditionally unpainted aluminum. And the bull horns on the front are a not a factory option.

It would take an aficionado’s eye to pinpoint this one’s vintage. From their origin in 1931, Airstreams haven’t changed a whole lot in their exterior design.

If I had to sum them up in a two-letter word and a punctuation mark, it would be: Go!

I was there a couple of years ago, staring open-mouthed at the classic trailers available for tourists with more foresight than I to book well in advance. Where else would you find a 1947 Tiki Bus, a 1950 Spartanette, a 1951 Royal Mansion — the names alone are beyond priceless.

At the entrance sat Dot’s Diner, for timeless road-food: Will you have grease with your grease?

(I was so impressed with Dot’s, it’s tattooed on my arm with a ’50s-style hot-rod Model A parked out front — socio-historical iconography.)

The right food is vital to a road trip. Fine dining? Nope, fine diner-ing.

It’s a crapshoot. Not all “Dot’s” are created equal, nor is it true that truck-drivers know the best places to eat. Just the fastest.

My two benchmarks are corned-beef hash, which has to be homemade (worst I’ve ever had was at a Fifth Wheel, where it retained the shape of the can it came from) and chicken-fried steak.

This is classic southern grub, deceptively simple but tricky to perfect. It can rival the best wiener schnitzel, which it resembles, or be a leathery grey aberration. Not the best thing to order at a Denny’s. I tried half a dozen times until I realized they just couldn’t get it right.

It’s nice, too, to pull off the blacktop and relax with a little culinary workout of your own.

In Texas, maybe pick up some rattlesnake steaks (try saying that six times fast, especially after a couple of Lone Star beers) to barbecue on the little grill that, of course, you didn’t forget to bring along. Once you get over the “eeeww” factor, snake is good eating. And a rare chance to bite back.

Meanwhile, we must have music wherever we go, whether we’re towing a trailer or piloting an RV. Perhaps a more practical choice, an RV gives you the same turtle-like experience of taking your home with you while not breaking any speed records. Serious fun, though.

I like hard-driving rock to help me cover the ground: Springsteen, Meat Loaf, Bob Seger … I never met a road-song cliché I didn’t like. I’ll listen to almost anything that’s in keeping with the trip, be it the Beach Boys, blues or country.

Robert Earl Keen is no slouch. So let’s give him the last word, the second half of his immortal line:

“…and the party never ends.”

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